Undeath's Bane
by Maxwell Murder
Summary: The forming of the first Dwarven Paladin company. Set prior to Warcraft 3. OC


I unfortunately do not own anything created by Warcraft or Blizzard Entertainment.

Undeath's Bane

The fall sun was finally starting to set behind the fortified walls of Lordaeron's capital city. All about the market area people were beginning to close their businesses for the evening. A chiming of bells resounded throughout the streets and grottos, announcing the time and changing of the guard. Everything seemed to die down so quickly. People seemed unaffected by news that a new war had recently started. As long as it did not come to Lordaeron proper, what did they care? Hell, even if it did, the city's defenses were second to none. Ballistae and catapults topped every tower. Trebuchets were strategically placed around the city. The arrow slits and murder holes in the walls and gates numbered in the hundreds. Guard houses and barracks were placed next to each major entrance, around the main keep, and doubled at the city's main gate.

It was not the main defenses, however, that put the city at ease. The keep housed a special hall within itself, a hall that only a select number were allowed into. The hall housed one of the headquarters for the Silver Hand; the order of knight paladins that had helped to defend Lordaeron in the previous wars against the onslaught of the Orcish Horde. The mere presence of this formidable force was what put the populace at ease.

The doors of the main keep opened up and a lone figure emerged. He looked around a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the fading light, and set off down the steps. At the bottom of the steps he turned and headed in the direction of the meeting place, the others would most likely be there by now. After a few blocks he turned down an alley and stopped at the entrance to the Stout King's tavern. He looked at the door quizzically for a moment. His hand reached into a pocket on the inside of his cloak and pulled forth a worn piece of parchment. A few seconds study was all he needed. The hand returned the note to his pocket and extended towards the door. Two knocks, pause. Three knocks, pause. One knock. Seconds passed in what seemed like years before he heard the latch on the door begin to slide out of the locked position. The door opened and a foggy, yellow light lit up the ally. Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, the figure entered.

The air in the tavern was stale with thick, acrid pipe smoke that stung the eyes. The smell of stale whiskey and ale permeated everything. From the back of the tavern rolled a bit of black smoke, coming from the kitchen.

It suddenly dawned on the figure that everyone in the place was staring at him. Some of the eyes were scared, some hopeful, and others were glazed with intoxication. All had one thing in common though; they were all staring at him. There was nothing but silence. A silence so loud it could have shattered stone.

He undid his cloak and hung it on the wall. He walked the few paces to the closest table, a table that the inhabitants had cleared and vacated upon his entrance. He stepped onto the chair. He stepped onto the table. He spoke.

"Fellow dwarves! Fer years these humans have not taken us seriously. They have only used us fer our guns, tanks, and artillery to help fight THEIR wars. That time has passed. Two years ago I was grudgingly allowed into the Order of the Silver Hand. Since that time I have had to do more than anyone thought possible to show my worth. I stand before you today, a fully knighted paladin. I also stand before you a paladin without an order."

The room was still silent, but now every set of eyes had a quizzical look to them.

"I know what you are thinking. No, I was not kicked out of the Silver Hand. I have been given permission by Uther Lightbringer to go to Ironforge and construct a new order."

The silence could now shatter a mountain.

"An ill wind is blowing. All of us feel it. There is death in the air. The Orcs have begun to rise up again, this we all know. There is something else now though, something putrid."

An older dwarf in the back of the tavern stood up. "I, too, have felt it. My dreams have been haunted lately by visions of skulls. There is a new form of evil brewing in the world, one that none of us has yet seen. What are your plans, Mardag?"

The question was directed at the dwarf on the table.

"I plan to return to Ironforge tonight and begin to prepare our brethren for the coming conflict. I will train other dwarves in the ways of the paladin, along with a few other things that Lord Uther has given me leave to teach them. I will form a new order. An order loyal to the Light and to King Magni."

There was a notable amount of skepticism circulating the room. Suddenly, at the front of the room a gray-bearded dwarf stood up. There was a determined fire in his eyes. His nose was crooked from being broken countless times and his muscles bulged like thick rope.

"I'll go."

As if that had been the catalyst, the room exploded with dwarves shouting fealty to the Light, King Magni, and even Mardag himself. The chaos lasted for almost an hour as the dwarves swarmed around their new leader in order to sign the charter for the order. When all was said and done, the ale and whiskey flowed thicker than it ever had before.

The next morning was a solemn one. The entire city had turned out to watch the procession of the Order of the Silver Hand as it left the city to help curb the new Orc uprising. Banners were flying, flowers were tossed, and children were giddily following the horses. With all the commotion it was no wonder that the exit of the dwarves through the back gate went completely unnoticed.

Mardag was trudging along at the head of the column when a younger dwarf approached him. The young one had hope and longing in his eyes, but Mardag also noticed something else. A question was it?

"How can I help you?"

"Sire, I was just wondering. The Humans have the Order of the Silver Hand. What do we plan to call ourselves?"

"A foul stench is in the air. Murder is coming to the land. Death is coming. It will come in an unstoppable wave. And there to act as the breaker will be us."

"So what shall our name be?"

"Undeath's Bane, young Silfrond. Undeath's Bane."


End file.
